


Let's Make Our Own Masterpiece

by ephemeralstark



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Father-Son Relationship, Harley Keener is a Good Bro, Injured Peter Parker, Iron Dad, M/M, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter is a Bi disaster, Peter is a dork, Strangers to Lovers, coffee shop AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-06
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:27:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23044003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ephemeralstark/pseuds/ephemeralstark
Summary: Peter has been benched for four weeks thanks to an injury and he's not impressed about it, not one bit.While killing time and getting himself out of the apartment he finds a small coffee shop where a ridiculously charismatic barista called Harley works - a barista who loves conspiracy theories and apparently likes to flirt with Peter.Great right? Wrong. Apparently Harley is closing in on Spider-Man's true identity and Peter needs to know what he knows without getting himself into too much trouble. Too bad he can barely control what he says when Harley smiles at him.
Relationships: Harley Keener/Peter Parker
Comments: 7
Kudos: 119





	Let's Make Our Own Masterpiece

“How long?” Peter’s voice was loud enough to irritate his own ears, but Dr Cho was made of hardier stuff and she was unflinching as she met his gaze evenly – it was enough to rival May’s.

“A month, give or take a few days.” She repeated slowly, making sure there was no room for him to misunderstand, not that he had before, he had just hoped she would change her reply.

“Look, I get that this is a ‘serious’ injury, but really? A whole month to mend?” Peter asked, quirking his fingers in the air as he spoke, “what about my accelerated healing abilities? Surely that should take me down to a week at the most, possibly even a few days.”

“Mr. Parker, the fact that you made finger quotations around the word ‘serious’ proved that you don’t get just how serious it is.” Dr Cho said.

“But I’m Spider-Man!” Peter argued.

“You’re a kid who was stabbed by a blade coated in an unknown toxin, it cut deep enough to hit your femur and cause multiple hairline fractures,” Dr Cho said – for what may have been the millionth time that afternoon – something that Peter continued to ignore because he didn’t want it to be true, “you’re going to take a short break from being a hero and you’re going to use that pair of crutches that I gave you, whether you like it or not, because it’s what’s best for you.”

“It’s hardly a short break!” Peter argued, a month was not short – it was a twelfth of the year, that wasn’t nothing. “Do you know how much can happen in those two weeks?”

“That’s not something you should be concerning yourself with,” Dr Cho said before turning to one of her colleagues and muttering something that Peter was sure he wasn’t meant to hear, “can you go get Stark please, maybe he’ll talk some sense into his kid.”

_His kid?_

“Listen, please doc, I know that you don’t think I should be concerned about what happens on the streets of New York over the next four weeks, but those people are going to me getting attacked on a daily basis and looking for Spider-Man to help, but I won’t be there to do anything, I’ll be letting them down.” Peter said pleadingly.

“I know, but you need to rest and allow your leg to heal, otherwise the people of New York will be waiting longer than a month for you.” Dr Cho said, unwavering.

“They can’t be, I need to be out there!” Peter continued to insist, leaning forward on the bed he had been forced to lounge on. The movement caused a twinge of pain to run up his leg, he blinked and steadied his breathing, she couldn’t know that he was hurting. It would only serve to help prove her point.

“I heard there was an itsy bitsy spider causing problems.” Mr. Stark announced as he sauntered into the room, removing his glasses and hooking them onto his suit pocket as he did so.

“More like causing headaches.” Dr Cho replied, looking obviously relieved that Mr. Stark had appeared.

“So, what’s up, Underoos?”

“I’m being benched for a whole month, Mr. Stark, please, you gotta tell Dr Cho that I can’t not be Spider-Man for a whole month.” Peter pleaded, fighting the temptation to latch onto Mr. Stark’s sleeve like a child would, he was trying to prove that he was mature enough to be making these decisions. Acting like a baby would do nothing but lengthen his time out… probably.

“Well, the way I heard it, was that you were stabbed with a toxin that is limiting your healing abilities meaning that we’re being forced to operate on a normal human healing timeline, and not only do you have a massive wound on your leg, but you also have some fractures. _Fractures._ With an ‘s’, that means more than one, Kiddo.” Mr. Stark said.

“I know what it means, and I get it, but I can’t sit and do nothing for a month. I’ll go insane.” Peter complained.

“You get to use some snazzy crutches though,” Mr. Stark said, plucking the metal and plastic contraptions from the bed beside Peter and slipping his arms through the rings to use them, “every kid dreams of having these things, well, probably. I used to, y’know? Back when I was about ten, maybe eleven, I wanted them so badly that I threw myself down the stairs in the hopes of breaking my leg.”

“Did you?” Peter asked. “Break your leg that is.”

“No, I managed to break a rib and ended up with the world’s longest lecture from my father. Seriously. It’s in the Guinness Book of World Records, I’ll point it out for you at some point.” Mr. Stark continued. “I did break a leg in college though, and let me tell you, it was great. I got so much sympathy.”

“I don’t want sympathy,” Peter mumbled, “I don’t even want crutches, I want my Spidey suit and my web-shooters and I want to do my job as Spider-Man.”

“Kid, look, no one is doing this to be mean or try and teach you any lessons.” Mr. Stark said. “You did great out there today, but you got hurt, and you need to allow yourself time to recover. It’s not going to be held against you.”

“It will be though, the people of Queens will be looking for me, they’ll think I’ve abandoned them.” Peter said quietly.

“No they won’t, well The Bugle might, but seriously just ignore anything that trashy paper writes, they think I own London… like the actually city of London. They write ridiculous nonsense.” Mr. Stark scoffed.

“Sounds like something someone who secretly owns London would say.” Peter said with a grin, playfully narrowing his eyes at Mr. Stark in suspicion.

“You little brat.” Mr. Stark muttered, before straightening up, “now, look, I get that it’s going to be hard, and you are always welcome here if you need to get out of your apartment. Just, don’t do anything stupid, alright? Follow Cho’s instructions and before you know it, you’ll be back to soaring about the city on your threads and giving me grey hairs.”

“They’re _webs_ , Mr. Stark.” Peter sighed, rolling his eyes.

“Ok, boomer.”

“You don’t get to ‘ok boomer’ me, you’re the boomer, I should be the one ‘ok boomer’ing you!” Peter called after his retreating back. “How did you even learn that anyway?”

Mr. Stark didn’t answer, but then, Peter hadn’t really expected him to.

That was how Peter ended up finding himself limping down the street, backpack balanced precariously on one shoulder and crutches in either hand. He was beginning to realise how uncoordinated he really was; the number of times he had almost tripped over his crutches and caused himself a further injury was ridiculous, even if that happened there was no way Mr. Stark would believe him, he’s think that Peter had done something stupid to further hurt himself.

“So freaking dumb.” Peter muttered.

His shoulders were beginning to ache with the strain of using the damned things, no one had warned him how much of an actual workout they were, maybe they were worried about him putting up even more of a fight. He felt as though he needed a seat, and he’d only been walking for twenty minutes.

Get out of the house.

Sure, that was easier said than done when Peter could barely walk for twenty minutes without feeling like his shoulders were going to take off and find a better life away from him. How was he meant to go to Stark Tower when he couldn’t swing over? Sure, he could call Happy, but Happy was a very busy man who probably didn’t want Peter to be calling for a lift every ten minutes.

_Ring_

Peter jumped as the bell over the door of the local coffee shop rang out loudly announcing a customer’s departure. Ouch, his hearing didn’t appreciate that, but his legs appreciated the potential to go inside and have a seat.

He staggered over in all of his ungracefulness, almost knocking a potted plant in the doorway over with one of his crutches as he manoeuvred his way through the door. Inside he was met with the harsh smell of coffee and the gentler undertones of something chocolatey - he didn’t particularly like coffee shops on a normal day, the caffeine drove his senses mad and the noises and smells were overwhelming, but this coffee shop seemed emptier than most and the chance to rest his arms was not one he wanted to pass on.

He dumped his backpack in a cosy chair by the window before making his way up to the counter to order something, the board was filled out with chalk in almost messy handwriting, but not quite.

“What can I get you?”

Peter really should have answered, but he was too busy panicking about the flush that he could _feel_ rushing up his neck onto his cheeks. He was pretty sure that his face was bright red and he was gaping… but _damn_ that accent had been unexpected.

“Do you need another minute?”

“I- uh-” Peter’s voice broke and he was forced to clear his throat to try and regain some semblance of control over it, “can I uh- get a hot chocolate please?”

That hadn’t been Peter’s original plan, but the barista’s eyes were intense and mesmerising, as soon as Peter had looked into them he had accidentally spurted out the first thing on his mind while trying not to let his knees shake under the molten gaze.

“You sure about that?” The guy asked with a wonky grin that made Peter’s heart jump a little in his chest.

He needed to text Ned. He was pretty sure he’d just cracked the case of whether love at first sight was real or not.

“I am, yeah, uh please.”

“Alrighty,” the guy said, still with that stupid grin that was changing Peter’s heartbeat to a rather alarming rate, “sitting in or taking away?”

“In, please.”

“Grand, that’s $3.20.” Peter handed over the cash. “Tell you what, why don’t you have a seat and I’ll bring this over. You seem to have your hands full at the moment.”

Peter glanced down at his crutches and for a brief moment he forgot who he was speaking to, “thanks, I’m a walking warning about the dangers of fighting bearded dragons,” and just like that the barista burst into laughter.

It was a loud and obnoxious laugh that filled the small coffee shop and made a few customers glance over curiously. Peter loved it.

“Bearded dragons huh? Maybe they’ll be my next conspiracy theory.” The barista said with a wink.

“Conspiracy theory?” Peter asked, forgetting that he was meant to be having a seat.

“Nuh uh, I don’t know you, I can’t share my secret to fame,” the barista said with a sly smirk, “you may run off and make millions with my ideas.”

“Fair point,” Peter said, his nerves slipping away as he was sucked in by the barista’s charming nature and easy conversation, “how many visits do I have to make before I get to hear the ins and outs?”

“Maybe if you come back tomorrow evening, I’ll tell you something secret.”

“A secret?” Peter asked, arching a brow at the boy – was he flirting? Is that what Peter was doing too? Was he doing it well?

“Mhm,” the barista confirmed, “but it’s a second visit secret, each visit earns a new secret and eventually you get to hear all about my biggest conspiracy theory.”

Peter looked at the guy carefully, he had a teasing glint in his eye and an open, childish face that he didn’t believe was possible to resist. Apparently the pause had gone on too long as the barista decided to say something that amused and terrified Peter, “the biggest conspiracy involves Spider-Man,” he said while waggling his eyebrows in a stupid way that would have been funny if not for the minor panic he was feeling. 

“Let’s hope you make good hot chocolates then.” Peter decided after a moment.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading so far! If you liked please drop a comment or kudos, or equally you can find me on tumblr @[ephemeralstark ](https://ephemeralstark.tumblr.com/)and maybe drop a message or ask? Thank you!! 
> 
> This fic came around because of a monthly event on the parkner discord group! If you'd like to join [click here](https://discord.gg/DH8wNDz)! All are welcome :D


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